


I'm no poet

by Ivyfics (ivannab)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Iwa writing love notes is an open secret, Iwa-chan is a closet romantic, Iwa-chan is a contradiction, Iwao - Freeform, Love Confessions, Love Notes, M/M, No Angst, No rides on the pain train for these two, Oikawa Tooru's Birthday, Oikawa is a crybaby, everything is happy here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivannab/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: There’s a fleeting shadow in Tooru’s eyes, a slight twist to that million-dollar smile he wears. It makes Hajime a little sick to see it, knowing it’s not that awful grin he plasters on but it’s getting there. That won’t do./// or Iwa is really sweet.





	I'm no poet

**Author's Note:**

> A little early but happy birthday Oikawa have yourself a sweet Iwa.

Hajime’s not great with words. He’s crass, a little too brash and blunt, pretty average overall.

Tooru is. Tooru has a way with words that’s astounding; sharp, soft, sincere, fake, distracting, to rile up, to encourage, the kind that make people smile and has distinctly charmed the hoards of girls that follow him around. Tooru has them all.

It’s why he’s grateful, eternally grateful and awed and proud and all the things you are when you have what he has with someone like Tooru, that he has never needed fancy words to get Tooru to understand what he means.

He makes an effort, he does, because Tooru deserves to hear them–deserves everything–but he doesn’t need them. It’s difficult always saying nice things outright when you’re dealing with someone with a personality like Tooru’s. Childish, petty, insecure, jealous, intelligent, supportive, determined, you know the drill.

Tooru covers up all those things in a mask that Hajime has always been able to see through. He watched Tooru build that mask of perfection to protect himself. Sometimes he believes it too, a little too much, stops being himself and starts being the image of how he thinks he should be and starts hiding shit, like when he almost fucked his knee.  

It’s a dichotomy, a carefully spun balance of ‘ _I’m the shit_ ’ and ‘ _I’m shit_.’

That’s where Hajime comes in. A kick here, a push there; it keeps Tooru from tipping too far into either of those. Tooru’s domain is words but Hajime is actions, doing, things that mean _something_.

Sometimes actions aren’t enough.

There’s a fleeting shadow in Tooru’s eyes, a slight twist to that million-dollar smile he wears. It makes Hajime a little sick to see it, knowing it’s not that awful grin he plasters on but it’s getting there. That won’t do.

It’s not often that the little things Hajime does fail at keeping that at bay, but hey, no one’s infallible.

Even when he’s trying to use words, it’s all about actions, so he pulls out his old calligraphy kit for this. It’s old, but well kept and cared for even when it hasn’t really been used in a while.

The ink is fresh and he has enough scraps leftover from the last time he used it to practise again, letting his muscles remember how it feels to put ink to paper. He’s got the time now that they don’t allow the third years into regular practice, even with Tooru batting his eyelashes here and there.

The entrance exam for his first choice was last week and all the applications for the rest are submitted so it’s not like time spent not studying is going to actually matter. Finding time away from Tooru proves harder but he’s got his mom in on it, agreeing without thought.

There’s enough days left before their time in high school ends for this to work.

 

* * *

Figuring out how to get it to Tooru without making it completely obvious that he’s placing them–not that he thinks Tooru won’t know or notice, but he’d like it to be a surprise– is a challenge. They still walk to and from school together so it can’t be then.

Ironically enough, he uses the distractions of his fanclub, volume unchanged even when he’s not actually playing regularly on the team anymore. He slips it in his shoe locker on their way out for Tooru to find tomorrow mixed in with a confession or two that always appears there.

Those have increased now that their time as third years is running out, something that Tooru obnoxiously kept bragging about until he stopped via Hajime swiftly threatening him with a volleyball to the head. See, actions.

It’s the first one. Bluish sort of mint in a stock of white because yes, Tooru is predictable and adorable enough to have his favorite color be the same as the uniform he donned for three years. Even when that uniform turns deep red, that will most likely stay as his favorite color.

Right in the center, bold and unmistakable:

_Strong_

He was blushing furiously when he wrote it, but it’s true. Stronger that everyone, even Hajime himself. He’s not ashamed to admit it, he’s proud. His partner is strong. Tooru is strong, and anyone who cannot see that is very obviously blind and an asshole.

Things are the same the next morning. Tooru’s being a whiny child with sleepy eyes while Hajime drags him for the first half of their trek, Tooru leaning heavily on his shoulder and gradually waking up on the walk.

Bugs are crawling inside him at how Tooru will react. Maybe this was a bad, terrible idea and Hajime should have just kicked him and bought him milk bread and ice cream while they watched Star Wars for the thousandth time.

Nothing really happens.

Tooru grabs the plain white envelope– along with a pink one that Hajime had no part of– and doesn’t give it much thought other than to place them inside one of the smaller side pockets of his bag before going through his usual routine.

Hajime doesn’t know what he expected.

Tooru has always treated them with utmost respect, those small pieces of paper filled with people’s feelings. He might brag about getting them, but he reads every last one in private and responds carefully. Fear that he might say yes to one of them was a thing that Hajime had to deal with when they were in middle school but now it’s just routine.

Bug crawling calms down. This might not be so bad after all.

* * *

He doesn’t send another one immediately. It would be too easy for Tooru to catch him and he’s still not sure how he’s going to explain this need of cheering him up in the most convoluted way. It’s something he has to do. Wants to do.

If he knew how to tell Tooru what he wants without getting angry or in the right tone he would, but he’s not completely sure he can string together sentences to explain this properly.

_This is how I see you._

_You are all of these things._

_It makes me angry that you can’t see it sometimes._

The next one comes after an entire three days of Tooru draping himself across Hajime’s back and trying to convince him to go with him to a screening of a shitty no-budget alien film. He has growled at him to stop but all he has to show for it are two tickets in his pocket and a white envelope covering letters in shades of blue.  

_Determined_

* * *

He’s writing one before dinner a day after Tooru stays over and somehow herds Hajime into doing all the things he wanted to do without Hajime noticing until he’s left.  He accidentally uses his last clean envelope to do his warm ups, overlapping brush strokes in different directions repeating the same thing over and over and over.

_Clever_

He needs to stop by a store tomorrow and get some more stationery.

* * *

They run into Ushiwaka while they’re out walking after their movie and he has to drag Tooru away before he punches the guy in the face when he starts on his spiel. Tooru deserves more, and infinity more than what he got, and how dare this asshole–

Correction, Tooru lets himself be dragged away by Hajime.

The whole walk back home there’s an echo inside his head, itching fingers still wrapped around Tooru’s arm. He sits down on his desk and writes until his temper has simmered and all that’s left is Tooru’s defiant expression.

_Loyal loyal loyal loyal loyal loyal lo–_

* * *

You can’t really tell it’s Hajime’s handwriting. His everyday script is neat and organised, strong lines and even spaces. This is not what the cards look like. These aren’t school notes, these are the things that he sees in Tooru, with flare, over the top and bold.

He knows Tooru’s going to figure it out, but he wants to see how long it takes for him to know it’s Hajime leaving them behind. He likes seeing his expression when he finds one, hastily putting it away so that it’s kept private and waiting to read it when he’s alone while sporting a small smile.  

He wonders if Tooru fully understands them, those small pieces of Hajime.  

He never once brings it up or brags about them but he seems a little lighter, his smile less twisted, eyes less heavy. He’d write one for him forever if it meant Tooru would be a little happier everyday.

He knows it’s hard. Has seen it first hand.

And yet, Tooru still tries, every day. He tries and tries and tries, the stubborn little shit. It’s why Hajime keeps going, keeps doing it, keeps sneaking them in though even with him being so careful someone must have seen him constantly slipping notes into Tooru’s locker like shy kid with a crush.

 

* * *

_Resilient_

 

_Proud_

 

_Focused_

 

_Passionate_

 

_Confident_

 

_Stubborn*_

* * *

 

 _* (_ That one got him a day of pouty Tooru. He was half inclined to send it again _)_

 

* * *

Hajime has tried so hard to not make this about how Tooru looks. Tooru hears it  everyday from people around him, it’s all they see. They see soft hair and gorgeous eyes and sleek muscles. They don’t stop and see his intelligence or how he’s worked himself to the bone for everything he’s ever gotten.

Hajime hasn’t mentioned it but he’s not blind or an idiot. There’s few people as handsome as Tooru.

Today has been a challenge.

Tooru and his fucking hair. It’s styled minimally, Hajime knows. It’s shiny and soft and he wants to sink his hands in it, run the strands through his fingers while Tooru naps and does those pleased humming sounds he’s not aware of.

He could. Tooru looks like he needs to rest and has always been down for Hajime playing with his hair, so when they're on their way home and Hajime follows Tooru to his doorstep he doesn’t need to explain.

He settles on the floor with his back to the bed while Tooru’s getting something from the kitchen. Tooru’s house is familiar enough that he has no qualms in kicking off his bag to the side and hogging the remote until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Ah, It’s Hajime.”

Tooru’s on the doorway pointing at the rhinoceros beetle on the screen.

Tooru likes space and aliens, Hajime likes bugs and godzilla. It’s how they are. Hajime will watch an endless amount of space movie reruns and hear shitty alien conspiracy theories rants and Tooru will watch all of Hajime’s documentaries and godzilla marathons; it works.

He drops right next to Hajime after throwing a bottle of something cold on his lap and leans all of his weight on Hajime’s side. “Iwa-chan, It’s you.”

When they were seven Hajime caught one in his backyard and kept it as a pet for the short months it was alive. Now, every time Tooru sees one he names it after him."Yeah.”

Tooru shifts, settling in and letting his head droop on Hajime’s shoulder. The beetle’s climbing a branch now. “There you are again. Iwa-chan’s so popular.”

Bringing his arm up, Hajime runs his finger through the curls at Tooru’s nape. _Finally._

A deep sigh comes out of Tooru before he says “You’ve been kind of busy Iwa-chan. This is nice.”

He ends up with Oikawa pillowed on his lap, his finger running through his hair all the way to his scalp. A gentle hum is coming out of him and Hajime can feel it in his thigh where there’s contact. His eyes are closed, not pretending to look at the screen anymore and Hajime feels the tension he built up all week slide off.

It’s gotten dark outside and the only light is coming from the screen, bouncing off of Tooru’s slack features in hues of red and green and blue. It takes a moment for him to break out of the trance that is a fully relaxed Tooru in his lap. “Oikawa?”

“Hmm?”

He waits until Tooru’s eyes are on him.  Thrusting his chin to point at the screen where a close-up of some sort of worm is going on he says “That’s you.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

He ends up staying over and when he wakes he gets to see the glory that is a sleeping Tooru. Besides from the snoring, there’s drool on his chin, his under eyes are puffy with sleep and his hair desperately needs some of that hair wax he keeps in his bathroom counter.

He takes a picture because you have to seize these chances as they come. Making it his lockscreen is plain indulgence.

Hajime made sure to wake up before Tooru so that he can sneak out to his own room and take out today’s piece of cardstock. Mixing the ink to the right color is a mess when he’s rushing and it ends up all over his desk again. He manages to save today’s note and from being stained by any stray splatters but he does end up having to pick out another envelope from the new pack in his drawer.

Somehow he manages to be on time meeting Tooru downstairs when he’s coming up to the the gate. He looks better than yesterday, a lot more rested and the morning’s whole ordeal is worth it.

He waits until the afternoon when they have to go to gym class to sneak it in. Both their classes happen at the same time, so he can use the whole moving classrooms deal to his favor. He’s wrist deep in Tooru’s bag when he hears a rasping throat from behind him and his heart jumps through his chest.  

Makki is standing by the door and looking at him with a smirk. It doesn’t seem wholly evil and he’s not worried Makki’s going to think he’s doing something terrible but that doesn’t stop his cheeks from dusting a light pink and staring. 

The smile Makki shoots him is horrible. “If you don’t hurry your loverboy is going to come by to see what’s taking us so long.”

He has enough sense to salvage his dignity by not fighting Makki on the _loverboy_ thing, his cheeks getting a little warmer. “Right.”

The note’s placed on top of his books just right so that the bag will zip up without it bending. With a final exhale, he walks through the door and waits for Makki to get whatever he came for. His water bottle, apparently.

“Whatever it is,” Makki starts while they’re on their way to the gym, “that you’re doing, keep it up. He seems happier.”

He really doesn’t want to give himself away any more than he already has but Makki already caught him and he’s in Tooru’s class so he knows things. “He hasn’t shown you?”

Makki’s laugh bursts out of him. “Pfff. Are you kidding? The one time I tried to see what it was he got the sweet psycho smile and told me not to touch them with my filthy dick hands.”

At Hajime’s look, he shrugs and says “There’s some context there, but that’s blackmail material you have no access to.”

Makki stops by the door and puts his hand out before Hajime can push his way in. “He keeps them all hidden in that green folder of his and just goes through them sometimes. Gets a real dumb look on his face, like that one time he ate fifteen milk breads and almost threw up but kept trying to eat one more.”

Hajime laughs at the memory, loud enough to give away their entry to the gym before they open the door fully. Tooru’s gaze lands on him and bounces between him and Makki, the other already sauntering over to where brown eyes haven’t left him.

The word hidden in Tooru’s bag resonates all day.

_Beautiful_

* * *

Hajime can’t help himself after that.

Makki is his accomplice now, meaning Matsukawa is also in on it, and it’s helped a lot in sneaking the notes when Tooru’s in class or when he’s with Hajime himself. It earns him a couple of days of confused looks. It also gets him intel.

Apparently Tooru’s started to open them as soon as he finds them.

_“He looked like a lobster, blushing all the way to his ears. It was adorable. Good going, Iwaizumi-kun.”_

He’s not daft. He knows, even without Makki’s teasing stare and smirky comments, that these aren’t just to cheer Tooru up anymore. Somewhere along the line it became an outlet for all the things he feels about Tooru but doesn’t seem to be able to say out loud.

Maybe it was about that all along. He’s basically writing Oikawa Tooru the equivalent of love notes and he can’t seem to find an issue with that.

The looks he’s been getting everytime he drops one off don’t  help either. Tooru’s smiling at him more, getting closer, looking at him with soft eyes that only used to be present when it was the two of them. There’s still some hesitance there, like he _thinks_ Hajime is the one doing it but he’s not sure.

Hajime still says the same blunt things about Tooru to his face, calling him out when he’s being childish or petty but now he doesn’t have to swallow it when it’s endearing. He just writes it down.

Hajime keeps going.

* * *

_Charming_

 

_Handsome_

 

_Funny_

 

_Soft_

 

_Cute_

* * *

It’s the last time they’ll practice with the Aoba Josai team as third years. Yahaba has mostly taken over as captain by now but he still looks a little green in the face at the thought of Tooru not being there to have his back. It’s what’s going on now, both of them off to the side and deep in conversation, Tooru’s smile is soft and real as he gives Yahaba some reassurance.

He’s going to miss this place.

Kyotani is doing eyes at him from across the court and Hajime braces himself for one last arm-wrestling shebang. Makki catches wind and they make a whole show of it, Hajime as the supreme champion as it should be.

They offer to close up for everyone. Makki and Matsukawa are the last to leave, knowing they need the time alone here. It’s just them and the court.

They settle into the rhythm they’ve always had, like water flowing around each other, pulling each other in. He’s spiked them all, everything that Tooru has given him; in the true order of things, Tooru starts it and he follows through till the end.

They’ve all connected but this one is perfect. The burn in his legs, the sweat rolling down his temple, the sting of his already battered palm singing red. When it slams on the other side there’s nothing but adrenalin and a scream of _right_ running through his veins.

He turns to Tooru, grin as wide as he could ever have and his breath falters.

There’s a halo around him, and it might be the light from the dying sun staining everything pink and gold or might be just Tooru who is so bright he’s glowing but he can see it, see the fire in his eyes, the straightness of his back and that smile that could launch a thousand ships.  

The next day’s word is imposing, a deeper color than the previous ones.

_Regal_

 

* * *

It’s down on the paper, unchangeable and it’s true.

_Loved_

It’s been true for as long as he knows. It’s not like he’s just realised or that it scared him. Panic isn’t something he associates with Tooru unless the picture of him bent in pain on a gym floor is brought up.

It’s the way it’s always been, they way they’re supposed to be. There’s no doubt.

He feels loved, too.

He’s written it but he wants to say it. He’s not sure when or how. Tooru likes big showy things and Hajime likes it when it’s easygoing so he’ll find a compromise, like he always does when it comes to them.

Sure, the scales tips a little more in Tooru’s favor but he’s been in love with the guy forever. He likes spoiling Tooru in his own way, give him a break.

Tooru’s with his fans and Hajime still needs to change into his outdoor shoes, so he leaves him behind with his gaggle of girls. He’s mastered the art of sneaking them in in plain sight, so it takes a second to push it in through the slits before turning away.

Tooru catches him waiting and gives him wink before hollering “I have to pick up Takeru today, you go on ahead Iwa-chan.”

He shrugs and starts his way home.

Sooner would be better for the whole confessing thing, seeing as he already kind of did with today’s note. It’s the prettiest one so far, aqua and fluid. He practised for a whole week before he settled on the final one, the bottom drawer of his desk filled with a stack of rejects.

It’s quiet today, the sun hidden by heavy clouds but no signs of impending rain on the horizon. Peaceful, just him and his thoughts, or at least it would have been if he hadn’t been tackled to the ground.

Hajime is big. His muscles have muscles. Tackling him is not an easy thing to do, not unless you’re Oikawa Tooru and you catch him off-guard. They land in a heap, Hajime settling on his elbows so he can glare down at familiar brown cowlicks and the face that is buried in his chest.

“Oikawa, what the hell?”

It’s muffled by having his lips against Hajime’s shirt. “Hey Iwa-chan, it’s you, right? I didn’t get it wrong?”

“What–”

“Hajime.” It’s low and shaky. In fact, Tooru’s shoulders are shaking too.  He already feels lost but if Tooru’s crying he might just lose it entirely. Then, he sees the white envelope that somehow has not been crushed through all of this in Tooru’s grip.

He blinks. “Oh. Yeah.”

Tooru is shaking, but he’s not crying yet. His eyes are glassy and his mouth is pinched into a line. “Do you mean it?”

He looks scared, that same look from before Hajime started any of this and he wants that gone. “Yeah, I mean it.”

“Are you sure? Because this makes it sound like you-

Hajime cuts him off, cheeks going slightly pink. “Tooru. I’m sure everyone that has seen me put notes in your locker for the past month is very aware of the fact that I love you.”

It’s Tooru’s turn to blink. “Oh.”

He already knows the answer but he wants to hear it anyway. “How about you? Do you love me?”

Tooru looks scandalized at the question, a couple of tears falling down his cheeks. “Iwa-chan! Obviously, I do!”

Hajime lets out a small laugh, winding his arms around Tooru and letting himself fall back to the ground. “See, so what’re you crying about?”

They’re stretched out on the middle of dirty road with the sun going down and Tooru’s crying. He doesn’t have to plan anything anymore.

_Dramatic and easygoing, alright._

* * *

They go pick up Takeru together and Tooru holds his hand all the way there. When Takeru sees them, he looks miffed that they’re a little late but takes in their dirty uniforms and their entwined hands and promptly shut up and shoots them a smile.

They take him for ice cream to bribe him into secrecy.

* * *

It’s when he goes to visit Tooru in his dorm for the first time that he sees it. A big wooden picture frame, hung up right above his bed, fairy lights giving out a soft glow below it where they snake around the headboard.

When they’re placed all together like that you can see the slow and steady gradient from mint to turquoise to aqua Hajime had carefully crafted. And yes, Tooru has always been fantastic with words, but every now and again he reminds Hajime that he doesn’t have a monopoly in _doing_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)


End file.
